Monday Morning
by Lionora
Summary: A different way to begin the week ... Horatio and Calleigh are being spied on. Be warned: This is mindless, experimental and only ever meant to entertain.


**Disclaimer:** Do you think I'd have time to post on fanfic groups if I owned a TV series? I'd be too busy re-writing season 2. Maybe turn the entire thing into a big bad dream sequence.

Honestly, I don't own CSI Miami, Horatio or Calleigh. There, I've said it. This is so sad. *sniff*

**A/N:** This was written back in December, but I never dared to post it. It's rather experimental, so I don't blame you if you hate it. I just felt like doing something different.

**Rating:** Perfectly harmless. PG at the most.

**Pairing:** Horatio and Calleigh. But from an alternate POV :)

**Monday**

I don't like Mondays. I believe there is a song titled like that, and I think it's aptly named. Mondays are gruesome. Full of promises about a long busy week ahead, full of regrets about things one failed to do on the weekend.

I especially loathe the way to work on Mondays.

It's not that I don't like my work – but walking there on a Monday morning, with nothing but the prospect of lunch break to keep me going – that is a challenging task if there ever was one. Plus I'm not a morning person. I'm not even sure I'd qualify as a day person in general.

So picture me, walking along the streets of downtown Miami, watching the city clean up after itself in the stark light of another Monday morning – doesn't take much guessing to realize I'm not the most perceptive of people. About the only thing that gets through to me is the fact that the sun is quite bright today it's going to be another hot day. I'm squinting.

So suffice it to say that if I do happen to notice things in that state of mind, they must be striking indeed.

Like this couple the other day. I was just going through my early morning routine of pushing aside all conscious thoughts in order to postpone the moment when I had to acknowledge the fact that another long day of work lay ahead of me, when I noticed this couple.

They were walking a short distance behind me, and caught my attention almost instantly, as they were obviously engaged in one hell of an argument. I slowed down, allowing them to pass me by, which earned me a good glance at both their faces. The man had red hair of a particular beautiful shade, and the woman was – from my point of view – annoyingly pretty with her long blonde hair. She looked about ready to commit murder, judging from the thunderous expression she wore.

This I had to see.

So I fell into pace just behind them, keeping my distance, but straining to make out what was being said. And what can I say? It was worth it.

She: All I'm saying is that you have known them for much longer than I do, so you should be able to judge their reactions.

He: (calmly) Hmmm …

She: (with a heavy sigh) Look, I don't know. (Here she raised her hands in exasperation.) Maybe this is not a good idea after all. Maybe we should just forget it. I'll give you a head start on the murder while I go straight to work on the shooting myself. No one has to see us together for the next couple of hours.

Murder? Shooting? I edged closer. This was getting better by the minute.

He: (still calm) Only that won't work, because Eric has seen enough to get the picture.

She: (getting frustrated) But I can talk to him, right? Convince him he has not seen anything, or if he did, pieced it together completely wrong.

He: (in a voice that suggested he had his eyebrows raised at her) Think that is going to work?

She: (desperately) No. (then, considerably lighting up) But maybe I can threaten him? He won't be so sure about what he's seen when there's a spear gun pointed at him.

He: (chuckling softly)

Whoa. What _was_ I witnessing here? Sadly, a bunch of people were suddenly crowding the sidewalk, and I lost precious parts of the conversation. By the time I was close enough to eavesdrop again, the couple had moved on from the topic of spear guns.

She: And who is Eric anyway to throw stones?

He: (with a half-smile apparent in his voice) But that is not the point, Calleigh.

She: (getting angry again) You're his boss. You can make him keep this to himself.

He: (obviously not impressed with the idea) Hmmm …..

She: Okay, then why don't you suggest something for a change?

Aggravated, she crossed her arms and stopped dead in her tracks. Uh oh. Forced to stop as well, I quickly tried to think of something to do. Her companion was already giving me strange looks. Grabbing my cell phone, I pretended to make a call. Then an idea struck me, and I actually _made_ a call, telling my boss I was going to be late and could he please stop yelling at me?

Satisfied to have bought me some time (at the price of my job, probably), I pocketed the phone and tried to look completely innocent as I continued to follow them.

He: We could tell them before Eric does.

She: Are you serious?

He: They are going to find out sooner or later anyway.

She: I don't know, Horatio, it's all so confusing. What do you suppose they're going to say?

This time, it was him who stopped, taking her elbow and forcing her to look him in the eye.

He: Would it really matter all that much?

She: (after only a brief moment of consideration) I'm not sure … in a way, it wouldn't. But it's a strange situation and you can't tell me you're completely at ease with it, especially since it was you who suggested we walk to Headquarters for a change to talk things through.

He: You make this sound like I asked you to match testimonies.

She: (laughing) Okay, Handsome, how's that: We come up with some waterproof alibi and discredit Eric as a witness.

He: (in a tone suggesting he's smiling) I doubt we're more credible than Eric at the moment.

Me: totally confused by now. Note to self: Must remember not to follow random strangers on the streets. I mean, what was I being drawn into? All this talk about guns and alibis and discrediting witnesses – should I have been calling the police?

My mind was almost made up when the wind caught the man's jacket and playfully blew it back to reveal a gun at his hip.

Uh oh.

I was really scared by now.

And intrigued.

My mind was playing out all sorts of scenarios featuring the two by now. I could see them as some high-profile Bonnie-and-Clyde-derivatives, openly discussing shootings and murders in broad daylight. Wow. I was impressed.

They turned a corner and I hurried to keep up. No way I was letting this go now. By the time I had them in my line of sight again, they were standing in front of some building, facing each other. Was I in for the final showdown?

He: So, you want me to do the talking?

She: Actually … no. The less talking is done on the subject, the better.

At that point she reached out and pulled the man's head close to her own face. They quickly engaged in what definitely qualified as a Hollywood-worthy passion-frenzy. Something told me this was not the first kiss between those two.

After a while they came up for air.

He: I guess that settles the matter. No secrecy, hm?

She: (laughing) Absolutely not.

They entered the building, him placing a hand on her back. As soon as they were gone from view, I sprinted over to read the three letters on the tag next to the glass doors. C.S.I. Crime Scene Investigation. I stifled a smile. Good thing I hadn't called the police.

"Can I help you?"

I turned around to see another man walk up to the front door. "No, I was just …" I began, then realized that I had no plausible explanation to continue with, and shut up again. Suddenly, inspiration struck. "Are you Eric?" I asked.

His stunned look told me I had hit dead center. With a grin, I told him, "Horatio and Calleigh just came in. They've decided not to keep their relationship secret, but they would really appreciate it if you didn't brag about seeing them in that bar yesterday."

I turned around on my heels and left. I could have sworn I heard Eric's jaw hit the ground. The moment I was out of sight, I broke into a run, smiling to myself.

For some reason I felt better than I had on a Monday morning since the beginning of my personal records.


End file.
